“I’ll tell my father. If he promised to bring the tables, then he’ll do it.” She hesitated before straightening her back and lifting her head. “Have you paid for the goods already delivered?”
The butcher’s head got even redder. “Who said I didn’t pay, huh?”
She shrugged. “Nobody. I only know that my father always delivers his contracts on time. That is, unless someone is very past due.”
Leonard chomped at the bit to reply, but Madlen continued. “However, if indeed you paid on time, as you imply, then the guilt must lie with my father. I’ll speak to him as soon as I get home.”
The butcher started to look uncomfortable. “You do that. And if there is an unpaid bill, tell him he’ll get his money as soon as he brings me the tables.”
“Indeed I will.” She nodded politely. “Good day to you, butcher.” With that, she turned and walked away quickly so that he couldn’t see the smile forming on her lips. She strolled farther but bought nothing; it was simply a pleasure to admire nature’s treasures during these autumn months. Soon the ships wouldn’t be able to sail, the ice too thick over the winter months. Everyone had to manage to get through the winter with what they had. Those who could afford it stocked up. This luxury wasn’t available to Madlen or her family. She lived with her father, Jerg, and her older brother by two years, Kilian, in a small cottage at the edge of the settlement. Her father and Kilian did carpentry work in the barn, where the family had once kept cows.
Madlen never knew her mother. She’d given up her life to give life to Madlen. Everyone said that Madlen looked exactly like her: light-blue eyes that Kilian also inherited, long dark hair, and delicately carved features. The only difference was a small mole above her lip, which made her beautiful face even more distinctive. To this day, Madlen was plagued with guilt about causing her mother’s death and taking her away from her brother and father. She often wondered if her mother could have been saved by an experienced birth assistant or even a midwife. She was sure that someone like Clara could have helped and had dreamed about it a hundred times.
In her dreams, Madlen saw Juliana, her mother, in Clara’s cottage, her pregnant belly sticking out, the birth imminent. Even though it was impossible, Madlen saw herself next to Juliana, holding a candle in her hand and letting it sway back and forth. She heard Clara say that it would be a difficult birth, that something was wrong. In the dream, Madlen saw sweat running down Clara’s face. She heard herself recite psalms in a comforting voice, one after another, as she calmly moved the candle and watched her own birth. Finally, the time came and she saw the light. Juliana lost all strength and wanted to give up, but Madlen continued to pray that her mother would not die. Miraculously, she opened her eyes and took the newborn tenderly in her arms. Madlen felt her mother’s warmth as she held her, just before waking up. It was all just a dream. Her mother died without ever taking her newborn daughter in her arms.
Despite the endless guilt, Madlen knew that whatever she did or thought, nothing would bring her mother back. So, she did her best to make up for it, cooking for her brother and father and keeping everything neat and tidy, always trying to imagine everything that her mother would have done if she’d lived. When she was nine or ten years old, she would sometimes get so tired that she would fall asleep while eating and her father would carry her to bed. It had gotten better as she grew older. She was stronger now and could do a lot more. She also earned a coin or two helping Clara and could contribute to her family’s overall earnings.
As she approached their small cottage, she could hear her father and Kilian arguing loudly in the woodshop.
“He’s a scoundrel,” her brother yelled. “Besides, who’s going to help us with the household when she’s gone?”
“We’ll just have to take care of everything by ourselves.”
Madlen paused before sneaking a bit closer to the workshop. Her heart pounded wildly. They were talking about her, of that she was sure. Who did her father want her to marry?
“Mother would never have allowed this,” said Kilian, his voice suddenly calm.
“Mother isn’t here!” her father shouted. “She is dead, dead, dead! I have to make sure both of you have a roof over your head and something to eat.”
“At least let me speak to her,” Kilian said so softly that Madlen could hardly hear him. She swallowed hard, not daring to breathe as she waited for her father to change his mind or for Kilian to say that they would find another solution. But they didn’t. She stood as if frozen in place. Kilian opened the door and walked out of the workshop. Their eyes met, and Madlen knew she’d been caught eavesdropping. Her brother took her by the arm; she stumbled as she walked beside him.